


Flyer

by slashmyheartandhopetoporn



Series: Objects Verse [2]
Category: Justified
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-29
Updated: 2015-07-29
Packaged: 2018-04-11 20:45:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4451744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slashmyheartandhopetoporn/pseuds/slashmyheartandhopetoporn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>27. meeting at a support group au</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flyer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [leslielol](https://archiveofourown.org/users/leslielol/gifts).



> I’M REALIZING NOW I MISREAD THIS AND DIDN’T CATCH THE AU PART. THIS IS NOT AN AU. JUST RAYLAN MEETING TIM AT HIS SUPPORT GROUP. SORRY LAZZY.

It was about a quarter after seven before Raylan realized Tim hadn’t arrived home yet, despite him leaving the Marshals’ office about twenty minutes before Raylan had. If they hadn’t stopped at a burger joint between Tramble and Lexington, Raylan might have thought Tim had stopped off somewhere to grab them dinner, but as it was, Raylan could think of no reason for Tim’s absence. Not being Tim’s keeper, Raylan generally didn’t pay too much mind to his comings and goings, but this was the third Thursday in a row that Tim had failed to show up without giving warning, and Raylan was starting to grow suspicious. 

He considered calling, but immediately was struck by the inanity of anything he might think to say. “Hey, Tim, just wondering where you are,” felt too nagging. “Tim–call me when you get this,” felt too urgent. “Hey, Tim, just calling to check in” felt too desperate. So instead of calling, Raylan did what any sensible man who respected his partner’s boundaries would do and got in his car to go hunt Tim down.

Lexington wasn’t small by any means, but there were a few haunts Tim had that Raylan figured he’d have the best chance of finding him at. He tried the office first, in case Tim had turned back around before arriving back the apartment he’d come to share with Raylan. Then he tried the veteran’s bar Tim more or less considered his home away from home. Then Raylan spent the next hour driving by every other bar he knew Tim was known to visit, however rarely. But Tim had proved less predictable than Raylan had anticipated, and his truck had been missing at all of them.

It was only his own luck that had Raylan spotting Tim’s vehicle parked outside a nondescript community building about fifteen minutes away from the apartment at about 8:45. He pulled into the lot and then made his way over to Tim’s car, where he perched himself on the hood and readied himself to wait.

Twenty minutes later and Tim was there, stopped a few yards away from where Raylan was sat, his face wearing an unreadable expression.

“Howdy,” Raylan said with a small wave.

Tim’s expression shifted subtly from unreadable to unimpressed.

“Raylan, what are you doing here?” he asked, voice flat.

“Is it too obvious if I point out I could ask you the same?”

“Well we all know I ain’t fucking you for your wit.”

“Now, that’s patently untrue,” Raylan said. “And a bit mean to boot.”

Tim raised an eyebrow. “Forgive me if I’m not feeling too charitably towards you at the moment.”

“Then how are you feeling?”

A well practiced and long-suffering sigh. “In a word? Vexed.”

Raylan stepped off the hood. “That  _is_ a mighty fine word.” Tim finally finished making his way over to Raylan and then sat on the hood himself. Raylan took that as an invitation to take a seat again. “So what’s going on?”

“You worried about me?” Tim asked instead of answering.

“Should I be?”

Tim offered a small snort. “Or are you worried I’m stepping out on you? Fucking some twink in the Lexington City Community Center’s bathroom?”

Some of Raylan’s facade of good humor fell. “I’m not worried about that,” he said.

Tim dug around in his coat pocket and came up with a piece of paper he then handed to Raylan. It was a flyer for an alcoholism support group.

“Shit, Tim, now I feel like an ass.”

Tim looked skyward. “As if driving around Lexington looking for my car didn’t make you an asshole to start.”

“Well. Depending on what I’d found I might have come off as less of one.” Raylan skimmed the rest of the flyer and saw the group ran from 8:00-9:00. “If this thing starts so late, why do you keep avoiding coming home beforehand?”

“So you noticed my absence.”

“Did you think I wouldn’t?”

“I never can tell what’s going to catch your attention, Raylan,” Tim said, and he sounded tired of the whole conversation.

“I’m being serious. How come you didn’t just tell me?”

“I didn’t want to.”

“That’s a shit answer,” said Raylan.

“And yet it’s still an honest one.” Tim extended his hand and Raylan returned the worn flyer back to him. 

“So where do you hang out between getting off work and going to group while you avoid me?”

Tim shot Raylan a look that clearly communicated,  _Oh you poor baby_. “I go to that bar up the street.”

“Jesus, Tim,” Raylan said, but he had to laugh. “Then what’s the point of the group?”

Tim shrugged. “You haven’t noticed I’ve been drinking less? Cause I sure have.”

Raylan looked thoughtful. “You have been moodier.” Tim punched his arm, none to lightly. Raylan rubbed at the tender skin and scowled. “I guess I noticed you were having fewer beers with dinner.”

“The point is I haven’t quit drinking. Just doing less of it.” Tim shifted on the hood and made himself smaller, shoulders hunched and legs pressed tightly together.   
“I go to a bar and nurse a damn glass of Wild Turkey like it’ll be my last. Drives the bartender crazy, but he’s a dick so I don’t much care. And then I go to group and don’t say shit because I’m a fucking impostor while these people actually deal with their shit. But then…” and here Tim had to pause. “I don’t know, Raylan, I come home and it’s somehow the tiniest bit easier not to drink the fourth or fifth beer of the evening.”

Raylan was silent, unsure of how to respond to such candidness. It was rare Tim spoke of his feelings without dressing them up in barbed wire and steel wool. He wanted to embrace Tim right then and there, but was uncertain whether Tim would appreciate the gesture in such a public place, people still trickling out of the community center. “I’m proud of you,” he finally said, voice gruff.

Tim nodded and relaxed himself. “So, meet you at home?”

“I’m gonna pick up an ice cream cone. Want one?”

Tim hopped off the hood. “You ply me with ice cream everytime I struggle with this whole sobriety thing and I’m going to get fat.”

“And I won’t mind a bit,” said Raylan as he got off the car as well. “What color you want?”

“Swirl,” answered Tim. “With sprinkles.”

**Author's Note:**

> a bit out of practice with these two, but hoping to get back into it!


End file.
